


And then the Zombie Apocalypse happened

by foxsmoulder



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: "Jokes", Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Bad Puns, M/M, Mild Smut, Some Gratuitous Non-Graphic Violence, Strangers to Bad-ass Zombie Fighting Squad, Swearing, The light-hearted Zombie AU that nobody asked for, ZOMBIE-RELATED FLUFFY STUFF, mild blood mention, pining fools
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 05:44:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12788286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxsmoulder/pseuds/foxsmoulder
Summary: Lance had read and watched almost every single zombie story going, he was so well versed in the zombie-verse, that he was almost certain that come the inevitable zombie apocalypse, he’d be prepared.And if you’d have challenged that fact, he would have argued to the death, that although this wasn’t the case when the outbreak did happen, if he’d been at home things would have been different.Instead, his zombie (Sorry, infected) outbreak story begins with a guy, a cute guy, a cute guy who happened to stumble into him whilst receiving a right-hook from some enraged bar patron with one working eye and a baseball cap.A.K.A THE GOOFY ZOMBIE-AU THAT NO ONE ASKED FOR!





	And then the Zombie Apocalypse happened

Lance had read and watched almost every single zombie story going, he was so well versed in the zombie-verse, that he was almost certain that come the inevitable zombie apocalypse, he’d be prepared.

And if you’d have challenged that fact, he would have argued to the death, that although this wasn’t the case when the outbreak did happen, if he’d been at home things would have been different.

Instead, his zombie (Sorry, infected) outbreak story begins with a guy, a cute guy, a cute guy who happened to stumble into him whilst receiving a right-hook from some enraged bar patron with one working eye and a baseball cap.

“SUCK MY DICK, RUFUS.” The cute guy yelled angrily as Rufus? Stalked away from him, after spitting at the ground where the cute guy had fallen.

If Lance had learned anything from all of the zombie movies he’d seen, it was that he was the bonafide heroic protagonist sort. And as such, he couldn’t simply walk away from this guy after witnessing his jaw almost becoming unhinged.

The guy pushed himself off the floor, his long dark hair falling into his eyes as he groaned, his free hand coming to the already blossoming bruise on his cheek, and as Lance approached and looked closer at the multiple other injuries sustained, he’d obviously just seen the tail-end of a much longer fight, a fight that Cute Guy had definitely lost.

“Hey, buddy, are you okay?” Lance winced, kneeling down beside the guy, who regarded him with a deadpan expression.

“Peachy.” He huffed, wiping the blood pouring from his nose with the back of his hand. “Who are you meant to be?”

“M-me?” Lance sputtered, usually around attractive (even with a swollen eye and a cut lip) people Lance was smooth, but the deep, midnight blue of this guy’s eyes just completely threw him off his usually impeccable game.

The guy just stared at him, extending his arms out to gesture to the dark empty street like Lance was a fucking idiot.

“I’m Lance.” Lance rubbed the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed.

“Well, Lance.” A sudden, evil grin appeared on his face that the sight of made Lance’s stomach churn uneasily. Then without warning, the guy leapt forward, gripping onto Lance’s collar threateningly. “If you dare tell anyone that you saw me here, I will end you.”

Lance blanched, and suddenly saw red, mustering all the strength he had in him to grip the guy’s wrists and shove him off.

“You’ll end me, huh?” Lance smirked, dropping back to squat on the balls of his feet. “Based on the fact that one-eyed McGee managed to land a right hook on you without breaking a sweat, I’m not all too worried about you ‘ending’ me.”

They guy’s face fell, his eyes widening at Lance’s sassy response, to which Lance promptly folded his arms and raised his brows. The guy’s expression suddenly warmed, an amused smile appearing, causing the cut in his lip to re-open and begin pouring with blood.

 

“Are you kidding me, do I look like I have fucking insurance?!” The guy, whom Lance had discovered was called Keith after much coaxing and insistence whilst they made the twenty minute bus ride to the hospital nearby, accidentally spat blood as he leant forward to swipe his hand at the clipboard Lance was holding.

Lance looked him up and down.

“I’m gonna plead the fifth, and go with the secret third option, and say that you look like someone who definitely fucking needs insurance.” Lance rolled his eyes, dropping into the chair next to Keith, who grit his teeth and hissed against the pain in his cheek, the bruise was now twice the size and a filthy looking purple.

“Use your peas.” Lance gestured to the bag of frozen peas in Keith's finger-less-gloved hand, electing to ignore the absolute hilarity that he was wearing them in the first place.

Keith grunted and lifted the bag to his cheek, wincing as the bag made heavy-handed contact with his cheek, making him throw his head back and slam into the plastic back of the chair.

“Hey, I think you could sue for that.” Lance smirked as he inspected the new cut on the back of Keith’s head.

 

“You don’t have to stay here.” Keith was keeping his eye on Lance as the friendly, white-haired doctor stitched up the cut on his eyebrow.

Lance made a noise and shrugged, he was too busy trying to flirt with said doctor.

“So you’re from England huh,” Lance ignored him, leaning onto his elbow to smile flirtingly at the doctor, who regarded him with a fond exasperation. “I heard they get free healthcare there.”

“Why do you think I came to America for work?” The doctor smiled, snipping off the last of the string and leaning back to admire her handiwork. “The pay in England is peanuts for that reason.”

“America, the land of the not so free healthcare.” Keith muttered, wincing at the pain in his face and the thought of the bill.

“And the home of the stupid who think they’re brave.” Lance leant forward on his knees, grinning at Keith with a stupidly enchanting shit-eating grin.

 

They heard it as they were leaving, and they saw it as Lance walked into the automatic door, that had been completely sealed shut.

Lance felt all the blood drain from his smarting face, as they stared up at the television screens, watching live footage of a frantic, wide-eyed looking person, completely covered in blood and foaming at the mouth for what Lance could only guess was brains.

“This has to be like the H. G Wells incident.” Keith whispered, Lance had forgotten he’d even existed, he was gazing at the screen with incredulous eyes, like he didn’t believe it was happening.

“H. G What incident?” Lance couldn’t tear his eyes away as the person on the screen ran, full pelt, at a crowd of people.

“War of the worlds, Orson Wells did an infamous radio broadcast of him reading the book and people freaked the fuck out.”

“Shut the front door!” Lance finally tore his eyes away from the bedlam that was national news coverage and at the bruised, bloodied guy talking to him about literature.

They were stunned into silence, as a news anchor appeared, a very stern, serious look on her face when the words ‘Bio-chemical warfare’ scrolled across the bottom of the screen, followed by ‘national country-wide lockdown’.

Lance honestly didn’t hear what the woman was saying.

This was it, the zombie apocalypse he’d spent so much time preparing for.

And he was stuck in a mother-fucking public hospital.

 

Obviously there was panic, Lance was running through a mental checklist of the things that would absolutely ensure his survival, a checklist of things that he DIDN’T HAVE.

Keith however, was lounging on a sofa in the waiting room, a coffee from the coffee machine in his hand, watching with a victorious smirk on his face as hospital staff and patients alike dashed around like head-less chickens.

His bill had apparently been forgotten about.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” Lance huffed, waiting politely as a child in a wheelchair came skittering past, a screaming woman that Lance assumed was his mom racing along behind him before he headed to the vending machine, stroking the sides of it, looking for an override.

They needed provisions.

He’d known Keith for all of three hours, and yet they were bonded for life now, if either of them did end up surviving this -  which Lance doubted, being that although the hospital was on lockdown, the infected were known for their determination – they’d probably be friends for life.

Zombies were also renowned for their inability to react when shards of glass pierced their skin as they came barrelling through glass doors, luckily, this was not the case thus far, they hadn’t seen a single infected person come strolling by, yet.

Lance felt a strange need to protect Keith, without him, Keith would probably be dead meat.

“Why would I not be enjoying this?!” Keith grinned, “It’s fucking anarchy, civilisation is about to crumble before our very eyes, and we’re in here, not out there, what’s not to love?”

“Goddamnit, have you ever seen a zombie movie, Keith?!” Lance cried, thinking that perhaps shaking the vending machine with all his strength might cause some kind mechanism to click, throwing open the door and letting all the chips and chocolatey goodness pour to the ground around them.

Except it didn’t. He groaned and dropped his forehead to the glass.

“I’ve seen films.” Keith huffed, folding his arms and pouting.

“Well, I happen to be zombie-movie connoisseur-“

“Why do people who know a lot about a certain subject feel a need to slap the term connoisseur-“

“And I know as well as any other zombie-movie FANATIC-“

“Better.”

“That even if we are ‘safe’” Lance adopted air-quotes accordingly. “In here right now, that does not mean that we’ll be safe here for long.”

“God, you’re such a nerd.” Keith scoffed, before wincing as Lance flicked him in the bruised cheek.

 

Keith had gotten fed up with Lance’s vending machine fondling, picked up a chair and threw it at the glass. It had, at first, promptly bounced off and one of the legs of the chair had hit Lance squarely in the face, but after sheer determination fuelled him from deep within, they finally broke into it and filled their pockets.

“Okay, now we need weapons.” Lance batted a chocolate bar out of Keith’s hands as he began to open it.

“Hey! What gives?!” Keith exclaimed, staring at the despondent looking chocolate bar staring up at him sadly.

“We don’t know how soon we’ll be able to get more provisions, so we have to ration them.” Lance snapped, picking up the chocolate bar and tucking it into his pocket, rubbing the mark on his forehead absentmindedly.

“What’s your opinion on guns?” Keith asked, zipping up his pockets so that no packets of potato chips would come spilling out of his pockets as they inevitably would have to break into a run.

“That’s a pretty loaded question.”

Keith hated how adorable Lance’s stupid little smile was as he pretended that that joke didn’t exist on this mortal plane.

 

They found the white-haired doctor cowering in the corner of her treatment room, a scalpel in hand, she looked a little terrified but there was an air of someone ready to fight.

“You’re coming with us!” Lance exclaimed, holding up the chair-leg they’d managed to prise off the chair that had assaulted Lance, he felt it was a fitting end for said chair.

The doctor tried to hold back laughter at the sight of them, Lance had torn both of his sleeves off and used them to make him and Keith matching headbands, by the look on Keith’s face, she wagered that it must have taken some serious convincing.

 

Keith was in his own personal wonderland.

“Shouldn’t the police have taken these as evidence?” Lance asked, lifting up a baseball bat that still had blood on it.

The doctor, Allura, had taken them to the confiscated items closet, and Keith was staring at different blades, deciding which one he liked the best, and he decided he liked all of them.

“These were usually from the cases were victims didn’t press charges.” Allura shrugged, looking at the bat in Lance’s hands like it was a fond memory. “Y’know, gang warfare and all that. But we did have a duty of care not to return these belongings.”

Keith had filled the bag Allura had given him with as many sharp objects as he could manage, Lance settled for slipping the chair leg into his belt loop and resting the end of the bat on his shoulder, hoping he looked like a movie star.

Allura had forgone her white coat and was instead donning her pink scrubs, she didn’t look ready to fight in a zombie apocalypse, but really, this wasn’t actually a movie, as long as she kept warm and could run, what did it matter?

Allura opted for a shovel that had been used to brain an ex.

 

“Holy shit. Beyoncé’s a zombie.” Allura suddenly announced, staring at her phone, expertly angling herself out of the way of some panicked nurses racing past her.

“Not the queen!” Lance exclaimed, racing over to look at the screen of Allura’s phone. “Holy shit, she’s a fucking zombie.”

“It makes sense, she’s always being followed by huge crowds.” Keith shrugged, waiting for Allura to continue leading them to the basement. “I bet the infection spread like a plague at one of those concerts.”

Suddenly, they all leapt around at the sound of a crackling voice coming from somewhere.

“CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME?!” The voice sounded, it seemed as if the voice was coming from a walkie-talkie.

Keith followed the noise into a tiny broom closet, the source of the voice coming from, as they had predicted, a walkie-talkie.

Lance immediately picked it up, his inherent heroism taking over.

“Hello?! Who is this?! Where are you?” Lance exclaimed down the receiver. “Over.”

“THAT’S A LOT OF QUESTIONS.” The voice yelled back, “HELLO! THIS IS PIDGE, FROM THE I.T. DEPARTMENT, AND THAT IS ALSO TRUE FOR THE THIRD QUESTION.”

“Oh! Pidge!” Allura suddenly stepped forward and grabbed the walkie-talkie. “Hey! It’s Allura! From ED? We met at the last Christmas party!”

“Oh yeah, hey Allura, did you have a nice time visiting your dad?” The voice was much calmer now, and Lance could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“Oh, it was wonderful thank you! The weather was fairly miserable, as expected for December in England. How about you? You said your brother might be home for the holidays?” Allura grinned down the receiver, Keith and Lance exchanged a look.

“Oh, no he didn’t make it but-“

“GUYS COME THE FUCK ON!” Lance cried, grabbing the walkie-talkie from Allura, she was clearly using it wrong. “WERE IN THE MIDDLE OF A FUCKING NATIONAL ZOMBIE CRISIS RIGHT NOW-“

“Actually, technically they’re called infecte-“

“NOT NOW PIDGE.” Lance screamed at the sassy, disembodied voice. “Where is the I.T. department?”

“It’s on the third floor, but you’re gonna have to take the stairwell.” Pidge responded, they could hear the sound of her scuffling around in the background.

“Got it.” Lance nodded, pocketing the device and standing with a strong look on his face, Keith grabbed his wrist, looking a little reluctant.

“Shouldn’t we just head for the basement, get her to meet us there?” Keith suggested, wrongly, Lance turned up his nose at him.

“Didn’t peg you as a coward, Keith.” He smirked, almost challengingly.

Keith hated the shuddering butterflies that gave him.

 

Finally, they arrived at the door for the I.T. department, despite being almost thrown down the stairs as the rest of the population of the hospital ran the opposite direction.

The three of them, cautiously pushed open the door, Lance peeked his head around, only for his head to be pulled into a vice-like arm lock as he was forced to the ground.

“NOT TODAY YOU ZOMBIE FUCK!”

“Pidge! No! It’s us, your rescue team!” Allura flew forward, trying to pry Pidge’s arms away from her choke-hold.

Pidge immediately let go, checking over Lance apologetically as he coughed and spluttered, shooting daggers at her.

“I thought they were called ‘infected’.” Lance muttered, trying and failing to do an impression of Pidge.

“Oh god, sorry, I’m so sorry.” Pidge exclaimed, Keith couldn’t help the admiration in his face, she was a little firecracker with beast-like arm-strength.

 

Keith admired Pidge enough to let her choose any knife she wanted from his person collection, she settled for an oil-slick coloured butterfly knife.

“Ok so, news update, the virus is spreading at an alarming rate, yadda yadda yadda,” Lance rolled his wrist in a continuous motion, staring at his phone. “Statistics say that one third of the population is now infected.”

“How would one collect data for such a statistic?” Pidge pondered aloud, face close to the computer screen, they were hiding out there for the meantime, trying to devise a plan.

“By looking out the window.” Keith muttered, jabbing a finger at the glass, Lance headed over and leant his head near him far too close, he could practically taste his cologne.

Lance could see fleeing civilians and starving zombies scattering across the streets, Lance wasn’t a scientist, but he could tell just by looking, that it looked about right for a third.

“Why do you smell like a perfume shop?” Keith muttered, wincing away as Lance bumped his bruised cheek with his nose clumsily as he turned.

“You make that sound like a bad thing, do I not smell amazing?” Lance breathed, a smirk on his lips, still far too close. Keith was counting his freckles, it seemed at least a third of his face was covered in them.

“No, you’re gonna give me a migraine.” Keith muttered, pushing Lance on the shoulder, “But seriously, were you on a date or something?”

“I mean yeah, but as you can tell, being that I’m here and not bent over the back of someone’s couch, it didn’t go well.” Lance shrugged. “More’s the better, he’s probably a zombie now anyway.”

Lance’s head popped up and he pointed a finger to the window, the barest scoff of amusement and recognition as Keith followed his gesture.

“Hey, I think that’s him… yep. Definitely a zombie.”

 

“So, why are you under the impression that the basement is the best place to go?” Pidge whispered as they crept along the now eerily silent hallway, the beeping of machines and the pads of their own footfalls the only sounds around them.

“It’s barricaded? Easier to escape from since it’s got an exit straight up onto the street level.” Lance responded, eyes searching.

“How would you know that?” Pidge raised her eyebrow at him, even she didn’t know that and she worked in the bastard building.

“I know the blueprints for almost every building in this city.” Lance responded like it was a completely normal, not insane thing to do.

Allura had insisted they make sure that none of the more unwell patients had been left behind, and so far so good till they arrived at the last room on the corridor, Allura sucked her teeth and glanced in.

He was a patient of hers, platelet count low, she knew that if he was bitten, his blood wouldn’t clot, though she supposed that was merciful, he’d bleed out before the virus took over.

She slowly pushed the door open, the guy was laid in his bed, gaunt and pale but he didn’t look worried.

“Shiro,” She smiled as she walked over to the bed beside him, he opened his eyes and glanced up at him, his untidy mop of hair with a streak of brilliant white had been tied up high on his head.

“Doctor,” Shiro smiled, he looked worse than usual, his eyes slid from her face to the other figure approaching his bedside. “Pidge.”

Pidge bounded up to the bed beside him, a huge grin on her face.

“What’s up!” She grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “How’s the zombie apocalypse treating you?!”

Lance huffed at her use of the word zombie, but followed the extension of Shiro’s arm as he pointed to the television screen in his room.

A news anchor, talking about the infection. Apparently, the infection was spread by not only a bite, but it was also airborne, if you came into contact with an infected person, you had to get away from them within five minutes if you wanted to save your lungs from inhaling a butt-tone of invisible infected spores. It was worse than he’d imagined.

“Well, c’mon, let’s get you out of here!” Pidge shrugged, moving to unplug Shiro from his various drips and electronics.

“Woah, what the hell are you doing?” Shiro smirked sleepily. “You can’t be dragging a dead weight like me around when these creatures are running that fast.”

“We’re not leaving you.” Pidge was resolute, her tone of voice determined, Lance and Keith exchanged a look, it seemed they were now able to communicate without a single word.

Lance was heroic, heroic meant doing stupid things that may have been a hindrance and not a help to this rag-tag team he’d built. There was absolutely no way that Lance was going to allow any kinds of martyrdom, he’d never be able to live with himself knowing that Shiro may or may not have been consumed by zombies if they left him behind.

He turned to Allura, clapping his hands onto her shoulders.

“What do we need?”

 

Shiro was now their proverbial donkey. He was almost the most important person on the team, being that he had their entire bag of provisions, food and weapons, wrapped tightly to his chest. They’d strapped him into a wheelchair, with his permission of course, so that if they had to break out into a run, he wouldn’t come tumbling out of the chair if they had to round a corner at top speed.

Lance stared at his little team, they hadn’t actually come across any zombies thus far, but he felt like this group of misfits could take on anything that dared to cross their path.

The chair leg he’d had tucked away in his belt loop was now tied to the back of Shiro’s wheelchair, with an I.V strapped to it, leaking fluids into Shiro’s blood stream. He looked exhausted, but he didn’t look ready to give up, and that was all Lance needed to see.

They were making their way to the maintenance room, Pidge had insisted that they try and find her colleague, citing the fact that he was huge and strong.

That he was, though he was cowering and whining behind a stack of old computer parts.

“Hunk, c’mon, we’ve gotta get moving.” Pidge nudged him on the shoulder, he yelped and leapt back.

“Nononono, this isn’t happening, this is a bad dream.” Hunk kept his eyes squeezed shut, his breath erratic, forehead already beading with sweat.

“WAKE UP SOLDIER.” Pidge slapped him across the cheek, earning another impressed look from Keith. “Get off your ass and find something to defend yourself with! We’re getting out of here!”

 

Hunk was reluctantly tailing behind, with an old-school defunct keyboard in his grip. He, at this point, wasn’t even bothering to hide the tremulous shakes wracking through him.

“How ya holding up?” Lance clapped him on the shoulder jovially, Hunk stared at him blankly like all of the words he’d just spoken were in another language.

Before Hunk could respond, Lance’s walkie-talkie crackled into life.

“This is a message for any unfortunates still wandering the halls of this hospital.”

Pidge, Hunk and Allura all glanced at each other in understanding, they knew the owner of that voice, and it seemed to leave a bad taste in their mouth.

“If you are not in the basement, consider yourself dead meat.” The voice continued, there was something spiteful seeping through the harsh sound of his voice. “Looking at the CCTV footage, I can see that the entrance of the hospital has been eviscerated, who knows how many infected are inside.”

Keith sucked his teeth, he knew they should have headed straight for the basement when they had had the chance, he glanced over at Lance whose eyes were positively gleaming.

“Oh no.” He muttered out loud to himself, finding himself completely enamored by that stupid smile on his face.

And, as if on cue, one lone infected came storming down the hall, the six of them all screamed in unison.

Lance had thought a lot about what would happen when he actually came into contact with a zombie, all of his expectations flew completely out of the window, as he was faced with the staggering reality that they are or at least used to be people.

You can’t just look at a zombie and suddenly dissociate that zombie with the person they used to be, he watched almost in slow motion as the zombie threw its arms forward, he noticed the glint of a golden wedding ring on its finger, as he swung his baseball bat and shucked the zombie’s head clean off.

“HOLY SHIT.” Allura exclaimed, watching as the now decapitated body fell to the ground, Lance felt all the blood drain out of his face.

The head of said zombie, hit the wall with a dull thud and dropped to the floor, Lance knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t help but stare at the body-parts now strewn about the place.

He eventually tore his eyes away and turned to face the rest of his zombie-fighting squadron. All except one was staring at him with shock, terror and awe.

Keith, the sick fuck, was giving him the single most dazzling smile Lance had ever seen.

 

They were staggering down the stairwell, Allura, Hunk and Pidge were carrying Shiro in his wheelchair carefully.

“I can’t believe it, you actually killed someone.” Hunk whispered, the terror still gaunt in his features.

“Hey! It doesn’t count, he was infected, it was him or us!” Keith whipped his head around to glare at Hunk, perhaps too quickly and too aggressively as the cut in his lip tore open once more.

“I know, I know, they’re zombies, blah blah blah,” Hunk rolled his eyes as they finally made it to the ground floor. “But, man, Lance. Did you used to play baseball? You knocked his head clean off!”

“In high-school.” Lance shrugged. He was trying not to picture the wide-eyed, dead look in the zombie’s eyes. They’d realised at that point that they’d have to get moving, lest they become infected by the airborne virus.

With a stupid, fond look on his face, he tore some more fabric off his shirt and pressed it against Keith’s now oozing cut. Keith hadn’t been able to wipe the awed look off his face since he’d witnessed Lance decapitate a zombie without breaking a sweat.

Maybe his threat when they’d first met would have actually ended the other way around, Keith caught himself staring at the muscle in Lance’s arms, he wouldn’t have minded being ended by those fists, or that baseball bat for that matter.

Lance seemed to notice him admiring his arms.

“Are you a vet or something?” Lance smirked, pulling the piece of fabric away to check the cut he’d been covering.

“Oh god.” Pidge whispered from behind as they all watched Lance flex.

“It seems that you’ve noticed that these pythons are sick.”

Keith actually let a stupid smile form on his face, it was the apocalypse, he was okay with enjoying these stupid little mercies.

 

As they made it to the entrance of the hospital, there was a sick, still silence in the air, Lance was at the ready with his baseball bat, Hunk was clutching onto the handles of Shiro’s wheelchairs so tight that his knuckles were turning white. Keith had adopted a ninja-like stance, as if he’d be able to leap off his bent legs should he need to. Pidge was wielding her blade like she were pretending to be a video game character and Allura had her shovel at the ready.

“I can’t believe we don’t have any guns.” Hunk whispered, breaking the silence uneasily.

“Where would you expect to find guns in a hospital?!” Keith whispere-yelled in response. “Don’t you think we thought about this? Why the fuck do you think Allura is wielding a fucking shovel.”

“Because it looks like a decent melee weapon?”

“Hunk, you are not wrong.” Lance smirked, thinking about all the zombie video games he’d played where most blunt-ended melee weapons were usually his favourite.

Lance could hear the sound of a television playing in the background, the news anchor telling them that authorities were working on a cure, something that could be pumped into the air nationwide, and that they were to stay safe, inside, barricaded for the next twelve hours, he could hear the sounds of sirens blasting outside of the hospital building, the flickering of blue lights about the only thing lighting up the waiting room.

Their footsteps and the tracking of Shiro’s wheelchair on the ground was almost silent, it seemed as if they were all well versed in sneaking.

When suddenly, a crowd of eight or so infected rounded the corner, their voices harsh, growling and spitting, arms outstretched, ready to grab, the six of them stood firm, till the zombies finally noticed them, cocked their heads and began running full-pelt at them.

Lance and Keith looked on in shock as Shiro’s wheelchair came skidding past them, thundering into the crowd of infected like a bowling ball heading for bowling pins, knocking almost all of them over, they turned to Hunk who looked guiltily back at them.

“Sorry! Sorry, instincts.” He rubbed the back of his neck, pretending not to have some kind of weird pride that he almost scored a strike.

“Hunk! What the fuck!” Shiro called from across the other side of the room.

Allura was busy thrusting her shovel into the necks of the zombies on the floor, covering her mouth to stop herself inhaling any infected spores. Keith began following suit as Pidge leapt for the single standing zombie, pushing him to the ground and waiting for Lance to deliver a crushing blow to its head.

“Holy shit.” Allura muttered again as they stood amongst the corpses, forgetting that Shiro was pressed face-first into the wall across the other side of the room.

 

“Where the hell are we going?” Pidge whispered, she’d been tasked with wheeling Shiro since Hunk could not be trusted.

Allura had promised guns, and they were heading for some kind of undisclosed location, Lance couldn’t help but find some amusement in the fact that he was more terrified of this, than of the infected zombies owning the streets.

Real people with real evil intentions, were more forbidding than a mindless, wandering zombie.

Suddenly, a red-headed figure leapt from the shadows, in a police officer’s uniform, brandishing a veritable bounty of weapons, sunglasses balanced on his nose, toothpick sticking out of the mouth shaded by a thick, curling moustache.

“Allura!” The figure exclaimed as she rushed towards him. “You’re safe! I’m so relieved!”

A thick, eccentric, kind New Zealand accent emerged from his lips, he did not sound half as scary as he looked.

“Coran! It’s good to see you, I’m glad that you’re safe as well!” Allura grinned, reaching around the multitude of weapons strapped to his person to give him a brief but well-meaning hug.

“And who are these ragamuffins?” He asked, turning his attention to the rest of the five of them, Lance couldn’t see his eyes but he did not look impressed.

“This is Lance, Keith, Pidge, Hunk and Shiro,” Allura smiled gesturing to each of them. “They’re the reason I’m still alive.”

 “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.” Coran smirked, folding his arms, only for a second as he winced at the sharp edges of his weapon stash stabbed into his biceps. “You’re not exactly the best and brightest the country has to offer, but you’ve made it this far, and kept my Allura safe.”

“Are you in some kind of Halloween costume?” Keith couldn’t stop himself from interrupting, gesturing to the uniform Coran was wearing.

“No? Why would I be wearing a costume? Halloween was months ago,” Coran scoffed as if Keith was an idiot.

“So you’re actually a cop?” Keith scoffed just as incredulously.

“Of course, I wouldn’t be wearing this uniform otherwise,” Coran huffed, pouting. “You know it’s illegal to impersonate an officer.”

“Oh shit it’s the fuzz.” Lance threw an arm around Keith’s shoulder, “The heat, the old bill, the Jakes.”

“The Jakes?” Keith spluttered, turning to face Lance, the warmth from his arm radiating heat onto Keith’s shoulder, he had to stop himself from leaning into him involuntarily.

“Yeah, y’know, cause most cops look like a guy called Jake?” Lance raised his eyebrows like that was obvious, Keith couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips. “He’s a fuckin’ Pig.”

“Do you want some guns or not?” Coran sighed, gesturing to his weapons stash.

 

Now the team were armed to the teeth, Shiro had an automatic rifle strapped to his arm, fingers freed up to squeeze the trigger should he need to.

Lance liked to imagine they looked like fucking movie stars, Lance had pinched Coran’s aviators and was strolling down the street, arms and stomach exposed and covered in blood, resting his bat on his shoulder in one hand, and a pistol in the other.

Keith was beside him, chewing gum and holding a double barrelled shotgun, completely impractical but even Lance could admit he looked like a badass. Still bruised and battered, but still gorgeous.

They were making the journey to Lance’s place, where they would be safer, where he was meant to have been when this whole thing had gone down in the first place.

Everything was on fire, and the six of them (Coran had gone to try and find some fellow patrolmen) were blasting the undead left right and centre.

It all felt so unreal, like it was actually a video game, or a movie, it was relentless, as was to be expected from the goddamn infected, undead army. They didn’t have places to be or people to see, they had – presumably, Lance hadn’t been paying that much attention to the news casts – brains to eat. And their thirst for brains was unquenchable.

Which was what Lance kept telling himself as he watched another infected head sail off into the night, Keith was stood beside him, a hand to his forehead like a man trying to cover his eyes from the sun, ejecting a low whistle from his lips, impressed.

“That, was a home run.” Keith admired, the corners of his mouth pulling into smile, before suddenly turning and firing a shotgun into the face of a zombie right beside Lance’s shoulder.

“That, was a headshot.” Lance grinned back, they watched as a veritable hoard of more infected staggered towards them.

Lance automatically pulled Keith against him, pressing their backs together, arms out in preparation.

“We make a good team, huh?” Keith laughed, watching Allura eviscerate a zombie’s skull with the handle-end of her shovel.

“Yeah, I couldn’t ask for a better zombie-fighting squad.” Lance smirked, aiming his pistol into a nearing zombie’s eye.

 

“How bad would you feel if at the end of all this,” Pidge gestured to the bedlam before them. “That it turns out the cure actually reverses these effects.”

“Like we should have been herding these brain-dead cattle into a pen in preparation for their recovery?” Hunk whimpered, reluctantly slamming his keyboard into a zombie’s open skull. “I don’t think this guy would have recovered, half his brain is hanging out.”

“I’m trying not to think about that as a possibility.” Shiro groaned weakly, watching Allura crush the skull of a zombie under her foot whilst changing his drip.

“No regrets.” Keith muttered, reloading his weapon for about the hundredth time, no matter how many times Lance told him to change weapons, he was determined. “All people are shitty, in one way or another, this is just some crazy kind of karma.”

“Like you’re a saint.” Lance scoffed, nudging him in the arm as they finally made it to an area behind a chain-link fence that was clear of zombies, it was a welcome respite. As much fun as it was destroying infected brains, it was actually nice to take a breather.

Lance handed out chocolate bars to his rag-tag team.

“What makes you say that?” Keith asked, feigning innocence.

“I saw you getting a beat down from fucking trader Joe.” Lance scoffed, at that Keith raised his eyebrows.

“I don’t think that works as a nickname.” Keith rolled his eyes, Allura dropped onto the floor beside Shiro’s wheelchair, leaning her head back onto the armrest.

“I would have asked at the hospital, but I didn’t wanna be rude.” Allura gulped in as much air as possible. “Why were you all beat up? I’d assumed it was Lance, some kind of fight, but you were scared to say anything cause he was there.”

“Number one, rude.” Lance extended a finger in the air. “Number two, do you think I look like someone who could deliver such a beat down?!”

Allura stared at him, had he forgotten she was bearing witness to all the beat down’s he’d been delivering since the whole mess had begun.

“Before the zombie apocalypse.” Lance sighed. Allura just shrugged.

“It’s always the ones you least expect.” Shiro smirked, letting his head drop backwards, completely spent.

“I dunno, I just… had too much to drink I guess.” Keith shrugged, but it felt like a lie. Lance certainly hadn’t smelt any booze on him when they’d met, and he’d seemed as sober as a judge.

Maybe even in a zombie apocalypse people liked to keep secrets.

 

Lance was bereft, on his knees, he would have been crying if he weren’t so numb. His house was in ruins, it had been ransacked.

“I’m really sorry, Lance.” Keith suddenly appeared beside him, kneeling in much the same fashion as he. “Would it make you feel better if we stared up at the moon and screamed no?”

“Why would that make me feel better?” Lance sighed, though the tiniest smile was itching to be freed.

“Because, movies? Drama?” Keith lifted a hand to tilt Lance’s chin to the sky. The moon was full, the stars were bright, and it felt so right.

So they screamed at the night, they fucking howled like wolves at the moon, because it wasn’t fair. All the stuff that Lance had worked so hard for, not even the zombie survival provisions, but his computer, the photos of his family, the thousand dollars he’d had stashed away because he was a paranoid sceptic.

It was all fucking gone, everything had gone to shit. It had been so easy for Lance to pretend that all of this wasn’t real, but staring at the remains of his house just hammered it all home. He’d been decapitating real people for the past two hours with absolutely no guilt, simply because a virus that they couldn’t control had turned them into savage beasts.

Lance let his head fall sideways onto Keith’s shoulder, feeling pathetic and worn out, but a million times better.

“Thanks, Keith.”

 

So they moved on, they kept going, numbly destroying zombies. Lance had taken off his sunglasses, because he was actually struggling to see through them at night.

“HEY! I have an amazing idea!” Pidge suddenly exclaimed, causing Keith to fire off a shot completely by accident, luckily he nailed an infected clean in the head, so all’s well that ends well.

“What is it, Pidge?” Allura asked, she was beginning to get exhausted, blood all over her face from where she’d been rubbing her tired eyes.

“Why don’t we break into Lotor’s place?”

Allura’s eyes widened, a delighted smile appearing on her face, Hunk followed suit quickly.

“YOU’RE A FUCKING GENIUS PIDGE!”

 

Lance was bearing witness to Keith biting down on Lotor’s golden-plated gates, to check if they were actually gold. When he pulled away, there were straight-up teeth marks on the fucking thing.

“His father owns the hospital we work at.” Allura smiled as Pidge was using her super human skills to break into the gate’s locking system. “He was the voice you heard over the walkie-talkie.”

“Jesus,” Lance breathed, the lights were off, which hopefully meant that nobody was home. Pidge had said that the entire house was connected to the wi-fi, thank god for modern technology, which meant that almost everything would be accessible should she be able to hack it.

Shiro was almost completely asleep, they needed to get him into a bed, he looked even worse now than he did in the hospital, though that wasn’t much of a surprise.

“I’m in.” Pidge grinned malevolently.

 

Lotor’s bed was very comfortable, he and Keith had promptly bogarted the master bedroom after discovering that the house was in fact completely empty.

“LANCE GET IN HERE.” Keith all but screamed from the bathroom, and Lance raced in like an excited puppy. “It’s a double shower.”

“Wow…” Lance admired it in all its grandeur, and he glanced at Keith, whose hair was slick with sweat, bruised eye almost closed completely. “You definitely need a shower, that shower is calling your name.”

“Look who’s talking.” Keith scoffed amusedly, tugging at the hem of Lance’s shirt.

“Yeah, I feel fucking disgusting actually.” Lance smirked, rubbing his face, pouting at the dirt that came off on his hands.

Keith immediately threw his shirt off, undoing the headband that Lance had crafted for him and gently hanging it over the edge of the freestanding bath.

“Woah, don’t you want me to leave first?” Lance asked, extending his arms as if to stop him, Keith stared at him, hands resting on the button on his fly.

“You’ve seen me take a fist to the face, then get stitched up,” Keith smirked, undoing the button slowly. “You’ve seen me blast the face off like a million zombies, and you’re actually scared to see me naked.”

“I-I…”

“There’s the nervous guy I first saw tonight,” Keith smirked, undoing the fly and stepping towards him, a teasing smile on his face. “It’s the fucking zombie apocalypse, we may or may not make it out of this alive, and you’re actually nervous of me being naked in front of you?”

Lance was glad at this point for all the blood and dirt on his face, because if not for his mask of grime, his face would probably be completely red.

“It might be the zombie apocalypse talking, but I think you’re really cute.” Keith smirked, enjoying Lance’s sudden shyness.

Now he was very close, Lance could feel the heat radiating from his bare chest, he was dirty and bruised and disgusting, but so insanely hot at the same time.

“Fine! I get it, you wanna see me naked, it’s whatever, c’mon!” Lance summoned every ounce of courage that he could to try and pretend that he was confident.

He untied his headband, laying it next to Keith’s and pulling off the remains of his shirt in one swift move, feeling eyes on him.

Then they were both shirtless, and… staring at each other. Keith had the sleaziest grin on his face, letting his jeans drop.

“Oh god.” Lance sighed. He was dying, so he decided to very quickly throw off his own jeans and climb into the shower, turning it on and jacking up the heat.

“You’re still wearing your underwear dude.”

“AT LEAST I WEAR UNDERWEAR.” Lance cried, scrubbing his face, hearing Keith’s chuckle approaching as he stepped under the water himself.

It felt amazing to be under water, to wash all the filthy grime off their bodies, and when the room had finally steamed up efficiently, Lance did lose the boxers.

 

“Okay, now that I’m clean, I am not putting my filthy old clothes back on.” Lance folded his arms.

He and Keith were washed, shampooed and now staring at the drawers in Lotor’s bedroom.

“I know it’s the zombie apocalypse and all, but it still doesn’t feel right to go through someone else’s drawers, right?” Keith tapped the top of the drawers rhythmically, Lance was still reeling from the fact that Keith had tied his over-grown hair back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.

“For all we know, the man that used to own these clothes,” Lance hazarded a peek inside and saw Calvins, “Is a Zombie, and it’d be an insult to the expensiveness of these clothes if they never saw the light of day again.”

Keith considered it for a moment, and threw open the top drawer.

“I refuse to die in anything less than the best.” Keith agreed, holding up a pair of white boxer shorts with a decided look on his face.

 

They spent the next hour of their lives with the news coverage on in the background, doing a catwalk of Lotor’s clothes, each item more expensive than the last, till Keith was in nothing but a pair of Calvin’s and a fur coat that was worth – as they discovered after some extensive googling -  $150,000 dollars.

“Oh man, you look amazing.” Lance grinned from the bed as Keith caressed the fur of the coat.

“I feel amazing too, c’mere, stroke me.” Keith demanded, Lance was only too happy to comply. He’d settled on a fancy pair of Levi’s and a Dior shirt.

He ran his hands down the coat and actually moaned out loud, it did feel totally amazing.

“What do you think it’s made of?” Keith whispered conspiratorially.

“Kittens.” Lance cried, burying his face in the softness, feeling the wracking of Keith’s chest as he laughed.

“Dear god.” The presence of a third person in the room suddenly dawned on the both of them, Lance glanced up from his place in Keith’s chest and saw Pidge with two mugs of coffee in her hands. “What the fuck have you guys done.”

“We took a shower.” Keith responded, shrugging, this guy had no shame.

“I don’t… need to hear anymore.” Pidge winced, placing their coffees on Lotor’s drawers. “What if Lotor comes back and see’s you in his favourite coat?”

“He’ll probably feel guilty that he doesn’t look as good as Keith does in it.” Lance grinned stroking down the arm of the coat.

“You guys have to stop.” Pidge groaned, throwing her head back. “Get some pants on and come watch the news with us, it’s fucking wild, dudes.”

 

Pidge had cooked some frozen pizzas, Shiro was sprawled on the sofa sleepily, he’d insisted on staying up with everyone, the only clothes that Allura and Pidge had managed to find were modified pant suits. And Hunk had opted for a tuxedo.

They all looked dapper as fuck.

Keith had kept the coat and gone for a nice pair of comfortable jeans, but he remained shirtless.

The news cast was slowly unravelling, footage was still being shot, but all the people in the studio were infected, the newscaster woman was gnawing on the top of the camera-man’s head, yet still managing to get out coherent sentences like –

“We have Steve, on the scene.”

And

“I don’t know about you Tom, but that’s a tasty looking meatball.”

Keith yawned and let his head fall onto Lance’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut, it had been a long night. Lance looked at the corner of the screen and discovered that it was almost 2 am.

“Jesus, Keith c’mon, you should go to bed if you’re gonna fall asleep.” Lance nudged him gently. Keith nodded and stood up, rubbing his eyes, then wincing as he’d jabbed himself in the black eye he was already sporting.

“You go too Lance, I’ll keep watch, I’ve had a tonne of sugar.” Pidge grinned from the sofa.

“In that case I might attempt some sleep too, what about you Hunk?” Allura stretched and glanced across at Hunk.

Who was already fast asleep.

 

“Hey, Keith.”

“Yes, Lance.”

“Are you glad we met?”

“That’s a pretty loaded question, but I have a feeling that my answer isn’t going to matter any-“

“I mean, like… if we hadn’t have met, would this outbreak never have happened?”

“Oh god, here we go.”

“Like, what… if I had decided that asshole I was on a date with was an asshole five minutes sooner, if I’d have gone home, and completely missed you having your beat down, maybe everything would have been fine.”

“Are you saying that you witnessing my almost having my jaw taken off is the reason the zombie outbreak happened?”

“I mean like... maybe us going to the hospital, and taking up Allura’s time meant that patient zero didn’t get seen in time for them to discover the infection before it spread.”

“Jesus Christ, Lance.”

“I’m just saying, like… despite all of that… despite all of the existential bullshit that comes with the choices we make?”

“It’s 2:30am Lance.”

“I’m still glad I was witness to you having the shit kicked out of you.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I know.”

“… I’m glad I met you too, there’s not a lot of people that would take a complete stranger to the hospital when they absolutely do not need to. You’re one of the good ones. One of the few that doesn’t deserve to get infected with a zombie virus.”

Silence.

“Hey, Keith, this might be the zombie apocalypse talking, but you’re pretty cute too.”

Silence again.

“Keith?”

 

“RED ALERT.”

Lance shot up, disentangling Keith from around his torso in the process. Pidge was at the door, a wild look in her eyes.

“He’s back.”

Lance flew out of the bed, knocking a catatonic Keith onto the floor, effectively waking him up as he threw on the shirt and jeans that he’d found last night.

“Lance! Wait!” Pidge held out her hand to stop him. “There’s something else.”

 

“What’s a high-functioning Zombie?” Keith groaned, resting his forehead on the cold kitchen counter.

“God, of course you haven’t seen Warm Bodies.” Lance groaned into his cup of coffee.

Lotor had returned, infected and full of venomous anger that six almost strangers had broken into his home, but as far as they could tell, despite the huge chunk of flesh that had been bitten out of his arm, he was completely fine.

He looked gaunt and unwell, but he wasn’t foaming at the mouth or trying to murder any of them… thus far. Lance was sure that if Lotor did try and murder them, since they’d broken into his home and tried on all his clothes, he was well justified in doing just that even if he hadn’t been bitten by a zombie.

“Basically, the taste of human flesh does not interest me in the slightest.” Lotor leant forward on his elbows, glittering white hair pouring from his shoulder onto the counter below him. “And I am still capable of coherent thoughts, etcetera, etcetera.”

Allura was using some of the medical supplies she’d stashed to disinfect the bite wound, though she didn’t look happy about it, nor did Pidge, and nor did Hunk. Seemed like Lotor was a bit of a social pariah.

“Why you, though?” Lance wondered aloud, for as beautiful as Lotor was, beauty didn’t mean immunity.

“Yes, indeed.” Allura muttered through gritted teeth, and Lotor opted to pretend she wasn’t there, tending to his wound.

“I’m part of the social elite, and not only that, my father owns a hospital,” Lotor almost couldn’t stop himself from being a smarmy asshole. “Therefore I have all the best treatment, all of the immunisations, it just so happened that I had a particularly strong cocktail of drugs to help me with a midweek hangover yesterday.”

“You’re a fucking piece of work.” Pidge muttered, pouring cream into his coffee.

“You know I don’t take cream.” Lotor spat, gesturing to Pidge who feigned an apologetic whine.

“That’s a shame, we’re all out of coffee!” Pidge cried as she left the room.

“YOU KNOW THAT’S NOT TRUE MS. HOLT.” Lotor screamed after her as she left the room.

 

Keith and Lance were holed up in Lotor’s loft bedroom. Pidge, Hunk and Allura had been laying into Lotor for the past half an hour telling him how much of an asshole he was.

At first, Keith had enjoyed it, then it started to get a little sad and depressing, so he dragged Lance to the farthest corner of the house to get away from them.

“Question.” Lance announced, Keith nodded for him to continue. “Job?”

“Until quite recently, I was at the local arts school.” Keith responded, leaning back against the wall of the cubby-hole they’d hidden themselves in. “You?”

“I work at a high-end fashion store.” Lance shrugged. “I was at college, then dropped out when it turned out I was really fucking good at dressing the rich.”

“Question.” Keith smiled, something cheeky in his gaze. “Ever fuck any of the rich people you’ve dressed?”

Lance flushed deep beetroot and Keith couldn’t help the laughter that spilled from his lips.

“That’s a yes.” Keith chuckled. “Okay, follow up question.”

“That’s not how this game works-“

“Were they married?”

Lance fell silent once more.

“Holy shit! Lance!” Keith couldn’t keep it together.

“IT ISN’T MY FAULT THEY WEREN’T WEARING THEIR WEDDING RINGS!”

“THEIR?! HOW MANY CLIENTS HAVE YOU BANGED?!”

“THAT’S TOO MANY QUESTIONS.” Lance exclaimed, closing a hand over Keith’s mouth insistently. “My turn for a question.”

Keith nodded against Lance’s warm hands.

“Why were you actually having the shit kicked out of you?” Lance asked, quite seriously, dropping his hands gently as Keith sobered up.

“That guy’s son, fucked me over.” Keith chuckled, shrugging pathetically, because it was pathetic. Rufus was innocent really, he hadn’t deserved Keith taking out his hurt on him.

“So you went to go fuck up his dad?” Lance smirked, finding the whole thing rather amusing.

“Fuck you, rich-person-fucker.” Keith leant forward to dig a finger into his side.

“Sounds like something a jealous person would say.” Lance scoffed, Keith felt himself flush, because he wasn’t wrong. “But you shouldn’t do that, Keith.”

“Do what?” Keith smirked, letting his instincts take over as he captured Lance’s hand in his.

“Put yourself in danger like that.” Lance stared at Keith’s now gloveless hand fondly.

“We’re in the middle of an apocalypse, Lance, what are you expecting?” Keith smiled, using his hand to pull him a little closer.

“You know what I mean.”

Lance reached with his free hand out to brush a finger along the bruise he’d witnessed Keith receiving. He’d expected Keith to twitch away, but he didn’t. He straight up purred.

“No one’s cared before.” Keith sighed, closing his eyes. “I was surprised when you even stopped, sorry if I was an asshole… back then.”

“Back before all this insanity had started?” Lance chuckled, letting his whole hand cover Keith’s jaw, wishing he could make the pain go away with just his touch.

“Question.” Keith’s voice was just a whisper, Lance made an affirmative noise. “If the zombie outbreak had never have happened, do you think we’d have stayed…”

Keith faltered.

“I dunno, in contact? Friends? Anything?” Keith continued, feeling himself fumbling over his words.

“I think so…”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well, before I walked face-first into the not-so-automatic door I was gonna ask you to come grab some food with me.” Lance smiled as Keith’s eyelids flickered open.

“And then the apocalypse happened.”

“And then… the apocalypse happened.”

 

“On the road again,” Hunk was singing, his trusty keyboard tucked under his arm. “Just can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Just as Keith and Lance were about to kiss for the first time, there was a crash, a zombie driving a car had driven straight into the front room of Lotor’s house. The sound attracted an onslaught of the undead army, and they were forced to attack and head out once more, onto the mean streets of the zombie revolution.

Now, there were seven, Lotor had decided to tag along, much to the chagrin of the hospital staff in their presence.

“Hunk, for the love of all that is holy, stop giving me that look.” Lotor huffed, folding his freshly bandaged arms.

“Only if you give me a raise.” Hunk hissed in response. Lotor threw his arms out in exasperation.

“WE’RE IN THE MIDDLE OF AN APOCALYPSE HUNK!” Lotor cried, his voice high-pitched and whiney.

“That’s an excuse if ever I’ve heard one.” Hunk shook his head, glancing toward Allura and Pidge who nodded in solidarity.

“I’m also not the one that decides who gets paid what.” Lotor grimaced unhappily, watching Hunk batter an infected with his keyboard.

“But you’re an administrator at the hospital.” Pidge muttered, most unimpressed.

“My father only gave me that job to shut me up.” Lotor sighed unhappily, like the memory hurt him. “I don’t actually do anything, I don’t even have a degree.”

“Poor little rich boy.” Allura snapped.

“On the road again,” Hunk continued singing, enjoying the pained expression on Lotor’s face.

 

Keith couldn’t get over the zombies in uniform. Denny’s, Walmart, McDonalds, it was just so insanely amusing to him. Especially when Lance was throwing out food based puns every time he decapitated one.

“Became a zombie against your will?” Lance cried, reeling his arm back threateningly. “BIG MIS-STEAK!”

Hunk groaned loudly as a head came sailing past him, and Keith snickered behind his hand.

“May or may not be completely innocent and curable?!” Lance cried again, pointing his pistol into the eye of an oncoming infected. “I DON’T CARROT ALL!”

“STOP!” Pidge cried, running past them with Shiro in his chair.

“Hey, Keith.”

Lance was suddenly at his side, staring down at him with those piercing blue eyes of his.

“What?”

“I’d totally sacra-fries myself for you.”

Keith cackled as Lance took a zombie-head to the face.

 

“Guys, guys, guys!” Pidge exclaimed, staring down at her phone.

They’d holed themselves up in a Walmart, passing round beef jerky and sitting on toy quadbikes.

“Apparently, the cure for the infection… has failed.” Pidge winced, glancing between the six others. Lance had forced Lotor’s hair into a scrunchie on the top of his head as punishment.

“What’s next?” Lance sighed, his eyes scanning the aisles, making sure no more zombies were in the vicinity.

“Our best option?” Pidge groaned unhappily. “Get the fuck out of the USA.”

They all turned to Lotor.

“What, are you all staring at me for?” Lotor waved his arms, trying to feign innocence.

“There is no way that you don’t have a private jet.” Hunk pointed an accusatory finger at the half-zombie half-human with beautiful hair.

“Wow, what an assumption,” Lotor pressed a hand to his chest. “Just because I’m rich, and beautiful-“

“No one said that.” Pidge interjected.

“You automatically assume I have a private jet! Wow, guys, did not think you would be so small-minded.” Lotor shook his head.

The rest of the party continued to be stone-cold and unamused.

“C’mon, rich boy, show us where to go.” Keith stood up and patted him condescendingly on the shoulder.

 

“Well, my dad’s infected.” Lotor clapped the case of his phone shut. “And so is the driver, so is the pilot, and so on.”

“You don’t seem too cut up about your dad…” Shiro commented, Lotor just shrugged.

“My dad was a dick-hole, what can I say?” Lotor didn’t even try to pretend to be upset about it.

“That he was, buddy, that he was.” Hunk patted him on the shoulder consolingly. “So where’s the hangar?”

“Did you not just hear me? There’s no pilot, we can’t fly the jet!” Lotor whimpered, looking between Hunk and Allura.

“Sure we can, I’m sure there’s some videos on YouTube that will show us how!” Pidge raised a finger in the air. “Just tell us where to go, we’ll figure it out. It’s better than staying here, waiting for the entire population to become infected and then becoming overrun by the undead.”

“Question!” Lance suddenly exclaimed as they made their way to the busted out door of the Walmart. “Are there any other words for apocalypse? I’m bored of saying that word.”

The rest of the zombie-destroyers fell silent.

 

“Ever since the total annihilation of the human race!” Pidge squealed, the rest of the group made a celebratory noise.

“I like it, but it’s not quite the same.” Lance gave her a half-congratulations.

“Armageddon?” Lotor attempted. The group made an agreement noise.

“Everything changed when the fire nation attacked.” Shiro choked from his chair, everyone made complaining noises.

“WRONG FRANCHISE.”

 

“I’ve watched enough YouTube videos to know how this works.” Pidge smiled pride fully from the pilot’s seat in the cockpit. She made a grab for the tannoy mic. “WHAT IS UP BITCHES, ITS YA BOI.”

“Get your asses strapped in, we’re going to be experiencing some turbulence.” Pidge had memorized the entire cockpit from all the videos she’d watched, she knew exactly what to do. She flicked all the switches and felt the swell of the engine as it came to life.

“Lotor, get to a goddamn chair.” Pidge yelled over her shoulder, so he did as he was told. “And if you’re worried about me scratching up your precious private jet, I shouldn’t worry, all this bullshit is inconsequential at this point, so stop having kittens.”

 

“Whatever you do, do not think that just because you’re in a private jet,” Allura pointed a finger between Keith and Lance. “That you can join the mile-high club, those walls are thin.”

Both Keith and Lance flushed a deep red.

“W-why, why would we do that?” Lance stammered, whilst Keith smirked and crossed his legs, he’d found the fruit bowl and was holding one of his blades and a fresh mango.

“Isn’t that usually like… on the couples bucket list or something?” Allura glanced to Hunk for confirmation, who nodded.

“Couples?” Lance continued to be flustered.

“Yeah, like… the two of you? A couple?” Hunk interjected, both eyebrows raised.

Keith laughed loudly.

“We’re not a couple.” Lance gestured between the two of them, Allura’s mouth hit the floor, almost dropping the I.V she was holding up for Shiro and Hunk choked on his water.

“I’m sorry?” Shiro scoffed incredulously from under his blanket beside her.

“No, we’re not a couple,” Lance tried to still the shaking in his hands. “We literally met last night when I took him to the hospital.”

“Well… shut me up…” Allura leaned back in her chair a little, feeling as though she’d opened a whole can of worms.

Lance was bright red and Keith was licking mango juice off of his chin.

“Hey, Lance,” Keith smirked, rubbing the juice off his chin and cutting another piece. “Y’hear that? We look like a couple.”

“So I heard,” Lance blanched, clapping a hand to his face. Feeling hot and sick at the same time, not knowing what to make of the situation. He was usually such a smooth operator, and yet everything that Keith did sent him into some kind of flustered mess.

 

Lance had gotten up to grab another bottle of water when Allura cornered him.

“Lance, I am so sorry, I just assumed, y’know, you’re…” She ran out of words, and Lance just stared at her.

“It’s fine Allura, really, I’m not like… offended or anything.” Lance smiled reassuringly. “And sure he’s a cutie, but I don’t think he’d ever really be interested in me.”

“I will slap you into another galaxy.” Allura muttered, a finger against his chin accusingly. “Don’t give me any of that ‘woe is me’ bullshit. He’s so into you, he’s trying to seduce you with a mango, are you kidding me?!”

“It’s just the apocalypse.” Lance shrugged. “It does things to the way you see things, in real life, we may not have anything in common.”

Allura grabbed Lance’s cheeks and directed his eyes towards Keith, who was staring at him, licking mango juice off his fingers with a lingering tongue.

“God, if you don’t I will.” Allura muttered sarcastically. “I’m done having this stupid conversation, so I’m just gonna give some evidence. The way you smile at each other like the other is a pile of puppies, the way you guys make each other laugh like idiots in the middle of a fucking Armageddon, stop being a sod and kiss the boy before he starts sucking off that banana.”

Lance looked at the fruit bowl, and there it was, a banana.

 

Pidge had made an announcement, she’d made contact with the air traffic control and had explained the situation. The only issue being that Lotor was technically infected, although the real issue wasn’t that he was infected, but the fact he was totally unaffected by the virus.

That made him comparable to Jesus, he was The One. He was the answer to the cure, whatever was within him, whether it had been the midweek hangover drug cocktail or something in his D.N.A, the government in the UK were very interested in meeting him.

But Lance had hardly been paying attention to Pidge and all the important exposition she was giving, he was staring at Keith, who had made his way through a dozen grapes and a plum, and at this point it was getting lewd and ridiculous.

Keith was about to make a grab for the banana, when Lance unbuckled himself and grabbed Keith by the wrist, Allura and Hunk watching amusedly as they wandered to the far end of the jet, hopefully out of earshot.

“What’s up Lance,” Keith smiled stupidly, like he had no idea what he was doing.

“What are you playing at?” Lance smirked, shoving him into a chair beside the bathroom, he wasn’t going to give Hunk and Allura the satisfaction of seeing him actually drag Keith into the bathroom.

“What? What are you asking me?” Keith smirked, leaning forward a little as Lance dropped into the chair beside him.

“Do you wanna kiss me or does fruit just really do it or you?” Lance blurted, Keith’s eyes widened for a second, and then fell into a heavy-lidded gaze.

“What’s if it’s both?” He smirked, Lance groaned and dropped his head back onto the chair behind him.

“Is that a thing?” Lance sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Is it a thing to have a fruit fetish?”

“I don’t know if it’s the fruit, or your face I enjoy the most.” Keith considered for a moment. “I’ve honestly never eaten so much healthy stuff in one go before, I’m not sure my body can take it.”

Lance sighed and leant forward, grabbing Keith’s face, the sticky remnants of mango juice still residing there.

“So what’s it gonna be, when this is all over?” Lance asked, with some finality to his tone, Keith’s pupils flitted undecidedly between Lance’s.

Instead of a response, Keith closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against Lance’s, he tasted like a juicy, bountiful fruit salad, it was delightful.

 

“Of course this fancy-schmancy private jet has satellite.” Hunk rolled his eyes, tapping on the remote control, trying to find a channel with a living news caster, they finally came across… something resembling alive.

In fact, they didn’t look qualified to be a news caster at all, their clothes were filthy and torn, they looked like a survivor. Straight blond hair, and rugged looking with an easy smile on his face.

“So, the United States of America has been decimated,” The guy leant forward on the desk, there was quiet all around him, nothing being displayed on the green screen behind him. “Now three quarters of the population is completely infected. But news has spread from England, that there is one, lone infected who has not succumbed to the virus.”

All eyes turned to the cockpit, where Lotor was still diligently trying to help as a co-pilot.

“That person is currently on a plane to the United Kingdom,” The man continued, lifting the automatic rifle in his hand to destroy a zombie who’d come waltzing in. “In the hopes that they’ll be able to figure out whatever it is that’s stopping them from becoming a brain-dead bitey motherfucker.”

“But… at this point, is it really worth it?” The guy sighed, resting his weapon back down onto the table and removing his beanie. “Everyone you know and love is probably without a head right now. If the cure even works, everyone's fucking dead anyway. Maybe this was just the way it was meant to be, social Darwinism, and those that have survived."

The guy paused meaningfully, staring at the camera, eyes completely, stunningly piercing.

"We will rebuild.”

The guy stood up, brandishing his weapon into the air.

“Nyma, fucking move the camera, all they can see is my crotch, what is your problem?”

The camera slowly moved up.

“And I nominate myself as president of the social hierarchy.” He continued, a victorious look on his face. “And if you British dweebs try to come at me with a cure.”

Silence.

“Now zoom into my face, Nyma, Jesus Christ we rehearsed this.” The guy hissed. The camera slowly zoomed into his face. “I will destroy you myself.”

**Author's Note:**

> GOD i'm sorry. obv there will be a second part, put im gonna wait to see if people actually hate this totally, and if they do we'll just pretend it NEVER HAPPENED.  
> EDIT - Chapter 1 - outbreak  
> Chapter 2 - search for a cure  
> Chapter 3 - SUPER FLUFFY TOOTH-ROTTINGLY CUTE EPILOGUE YEAH!  
> Come harrass me  
> Tumblr - foxsmo-lder


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